The Three Cornucopias
by BTolson23
Summary: Nine Tributes. The 100th Hunger Games. The 4th Quarter Quell. For this years Quarter Quell, three Cornucopias will be hidden around the environment, each containing a survival aspect: weapons, general supplies & medicine, and food. These conditions will make the Tributes strive harder than ever for the resources needed to survive. Every Tribute has a reason to win. Only one can.
1. District 1 Reaping

_**A/N: Welcome one and all, to Hunger Games: The Three Cornucopias. First off, this is a RE-WRITE of 'The Hunger Games Destinies Entwined' that I wrote three years ago. I will be adding some scenes, altering others, doing a massive spelling and grammar check and generally making it more detailed and intricate. It will still remain the same in terms of plot points, deaths, and progress. But if you have read Destinies Entwined, I strongly encourage you to read The Three Cornucopias as it is going to be better. Three years is a long time to hone my craft.**_

**Amber Waverly**

**District 1**

I slowly walk down one of the branches of the main road of District 1, which bustles with men and women working on making objects; models, music boxes, clothes encrusted with jewellery as well as selling these things to the citizens of the District. It's actually great being in District 1, seeing as how it's the richest district and all. Big spacious marble buildings for each house, gardens the size of parks, glossy oak doors, each of them like manors. The shops were often the same with marble walls and smooth glass. It must be expensive, but then again, the Capitol treats us handsomely for supplying them with all their trinkets such as jewels, necklaces and rings. We get along, although there IS a slight sense of boredom. For me at least. Nothing exciting happens here, not really.

How do I spend my time? I train. I train for one thing and one thing only: to get into the Hunger Games. The Hunger Games are contests set up by the Gamemakers of the Capitol, where every district, from 1 to 12, send their supplies to. It's punishment for a rebellion against the Capitol 100 years ago, and every year twenty-four children, ranging from ages twelve to eighteen - one male, one female - have to participate in these Games. Only one can win. The others, to be frank, die.

That's right. It's a fight to the death. So why would I, a sixteen year-old healthy girl with a loving brother to boot want to participate and most likely be killed? Simple. Revenge. The boy I loved was killed, no, murdered exactly a year ago. I quickly shake my head. I don't want to think about that, not now. I need to prepare myself mentally for what I'm about to do in three hours.

"Hey! Hey, Amber!"

I turn to the voice directed at me and see one of those silly girls from school bustling towards me, dressed in a repulsive pink dress and a face layered with perhaps the worst make-up I'd ever seen applied, dragging a somewhat reluctant boy by the hand. "Yes?" I ask, forcing a small smile.

The girl reaches me and smiles widely, showing bright white teeth. "Hey, what do you say about coming with me to get some clothes? Us girls need our clothes, you know?"

"Sorry, but I got quite enough clothes as it is." Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. I hate these 'girly-girls' who concentrate on only looks and not their battle prowess. The once proud District 1 reduced to this. It used to be filled to the brim with teens wanting to win the Games; used to be filled with teens not afraid to kill. But now money got to the children, and they were pampered and treated to their hearts extent. Pathetic.

"Oh…" The girl's face fell as if it were the end of the world. "I guess I'll see you around then…" With an awkward look, the girl walks away, the boy shrugging at me as he was pulled with her. Obviously they were boyfriend and girlfriend, but I'm sure in a month or so, the boy will find someone prettier, and then the girl will break down, have a bit of a cry and moan, and then find someone else to result in the exact same thing. The tragic circle of the fake and spoilt… It's just too bad, to be honest.

I reach the end of the street and turn down another, reaching a wide, flat building at the end. It was a training center which once thrived in teenagers training for the Games, but now was practically abandoned other that a select few who have my silent respect. I ignore them all as I pass by and enter the locker room, glancing at the mirror in my locker. Subconsciously I brush a strand of my dark brown hair from my eyes and blink. I'll be honest, the only things I completely care about are my amber eyes, which are nearly hazel. I sometimes just sit and stare into my eyes to think. They were the features that Jake loved so much about me…

Once again, I shake my head. This is not the train of thought I need to be in! I quickly pull my head from my memories and tug my cardigan and t-shirt off to reveal my well-toned stomach and small breasts. I don't care about the size of my breasts like the majority of female teenagers at school - in fact, it's a blessing in disguise. I can move around much easier with them smaller than average. I pull on a simple white vest and pull back my hair, pulling on a pair of black trousers. Despite being a girl, I don't worry about changing so freely in a unisex locker room. The few people who are here concentrate solely on training - any other interest is handled outside the building.

The bulk of the center is basically a large square room with all sorts of different equipment set up in a circle. There are weights, gymnastic equipment, ropes hung from the ceiling, and a special fighting area where people can practice with real weapons - albeit blunt - on straw dummies. This is where I head as I do every day, grabbing a dagger from its slot in the rack that only gets used by me and only me.

Two hours of hard work is wonderful. Sweat drenches my face and arms, but I'm not worried about the smell. I actually like the smell of sweat in that it proves that I've worked extremely hard.

I'm confident. I'm pretty sure that I'll be able to win this thing.

I take to the shower stalls and quickly strip off, turning on the warm water. I stare down at my glistening body, past my chest and down onto my belly which moves slowly and then down past my thighs to my feet. Isn't it funny that no matter how hard the majority of the girls try that a person who doesn't even try looks much better than them? I don't train to look good - I train to be good. I step into the water and sigh as the warm water sends small streams down through my hair and on my skin. I just stand there, my eyes closed, the memory of a man's laugh invading my thoughts. That sweet, deep laugh…

I know I'll find your killer Jake. I know it. Once I win this, I'll have enough resources to track your killer down. I will go to the ends of the earth; I will tear down the Capitol itself to find the man who murdered you.

"Amber? Amber, are you here?"

Oh. Great. Just great. My brother's here. I mean, I love him dearly and all that, but sometimes he seems a bit too… obsessive about me. Not in any kind of sexual way but more like he wants to keep me safe from the so-called dangers of the world.

Yeah… right.

It's funny - or rather worrying - though. Once I volunteer, I have this horrible feeling Jasper is going to do something stupid, like volunteer himself to watch over me in the Games.

No. No, he definitely wouldn't do something that stupid… would he?

**Jasper Waverly**

**District 1**

Hey, so it may be stupid, but I know what I have to do.

If my sister volunteers, which I know she will, then I'm volunteering for sure. I just can't sit here and watch as Amber goes and kills herself like that, I need to be there to protect here. I need to watch over her! She's only sixteen for Christ's sake!

While I wait in the locker room for Amber to finish her shower, I check myself in the mirror of her open locker and brush my hands through my already scruffy brown hair. I have the same eyes as my sister, but I would not be caught dead staring into them. That is only one of the many weird habits my sister has.

I take a look around the locker room, noting that it had much better equipment than the school locker room, where everything smells like somebody died and the walls are covered in graffiti. The only place in school where it doesn't get cleaned off. I like it here - although I don't like where 'here' is. The training center. I don't agree with my sister about training for the Games, but my sister is driven by revenge. She wouldn't even consider not doing anything if she thought there was a tiny ounce of evidence it would help her find the killer. Even if she does win, she would have no idea where to start: Jake's body was devoid of any kind of evidence. I worry that her revenge will do much more harm than good.

At this thought, Amber comes out of the section where the showers are, clad in a white towel, never bashful as always. "What is it?" she asks brusquely, using another towel to dry her hair. She never liked me visiting her here. I don't know if she's embarrassed or what. I've got to admit, I've seen what she can do and she is good at doing it.

"Don't you know what time it is?" I ask, tapping the black band around my wrist like a watch, a gift from Amber herself. "It's only an hour until the reaping. We need to get dressed up for the occasion." Some would say things like: "Come back to mom and dad, they got a present for you" or "Mom and Dad are waiting for you back home, come on!" Not us though.

Why?

It's simple, really. Our parents… well… Derek and Martha are 'moving on to bigger and better things' as they put it.

I hear a cough and my sister is giving me one of her looks. She doesn't even answer my previous question.

"Are you getting out? Or do you want to watch me?" she asks, raising her eyebrow.

Just great. I quickly turn away, inspecting a crack in the wall and hoping that the blood rising to my cheeks won't show. I think as I stare at the chipped stone. Is it really okay for me to go into the Hunger Games for my sister?

The answer comes easily to my brain. Yes. She's my little sister; it is my duty to protect her. No matter the cost.

Back at home Amber and I sit on the sofa, prepared for the reaping. She is dressed back in her usual clothes instead of dressing fancy, in that she's wearing a black cardigan over her red top, navy jeans, and knee-length black boots. As we wait, I notice Amber itch a scar on her forearm unconsciously, a memento of a fall a while back, her chipped black nails scraping away on the skin.

"Stop it," I say. "You know you shouldn't scratch that. It's discomforting anyway."

"Sure…" she says, her eyes shut loosely. She doesn't stop scratching.

I scoot over slightly. "What's wrong sis? I thought you were set on doing this?"

My sister opens her eyes quickly and looks into my own. Not only our color but our shape is exactly the same. It's like I was looking into my own eyes. "No. I'm definitely doing it. Not for myself, not for anybody but Jake. It's just that… you're going to do something stupid, aren't you?" Her accusing glare caught me red-handed. I feel my chest tighten.

"Well… you see…" I lamely try to make an excuse. I wasn't actually planning on telling her. Did Amber know of my intentions?

"You're going to volunteer, aren't you Jasper?" Amber's eyes were pleading. It breaks a brother's heart to know that I couldn't give her the answer she wanted.

I know I can't lie to her. She's my sister, of course I wouldn't lie about something like this. "If you volunteer… I plan to too."

**Amber Waverly**

**District 1**

I just knew it. Of course I did. Jasper's tall and lean frame was hunched over, his cut and bruised face apologetic but firm.

"You idiot…" I murmur. "You can't volunteer."

"Why not?" He looks back into my eyes. "You are my sister, I can't just-"

"Because if you volunteer I will kill you."

That one blunt statement stops him right in his tracks. I look firmly at him, showing that I'm not lying, and I wasn't.

"Ah…" Jasper utters as an answer, stroking his chin in thought.

"Exactly. Don't do it Jasper." I say calmly. "Don't throw away your life for me, okay? Our parent's may have left us… but you can't leave me, can you?"

I stand up at the sound of the trumpets indicating that every child from twelve to eighteen should go to the square. Perfect timing. "Let's go." I say, walking out into the brisk open air. I glance back at Jasper who is deep in thought. He notices me waiting and stands up, looking pale and shaken. Good.

As we walk through the street, we notice different kids walking in the direction of the square. Some are scared, a few stride in cocky confidence, while even less are set in grim determination. I spot the girl from before and try to stifle a snort. She's crying into the shoulder of a completely different boy. Maybe she was dumped already. Serves her right.

"So… how are you feeling?" Jasper asks me shakily, biting his lip.

"Excited. Confident. Kinda worried. Possibly scared for what you'll do." I answer honestly. I'm hoping I shook him hard enough that it will be too late to volunteer before he has a chance to think about it.

Jasper just nods, taking in a deep breath, and I could tell by the way his eyebrows lowered that he was thinking extremely hard. Don't make that decision, Jasper.

The square appeared before us, filling up with kids. I split up from Jasper without a word - I could say my goodbyes later - and went into the sixteen-years old area, along with a couple of people I knew roughly from school. Jasper himself went to the seventeen area. In the middle of the square was a big wooden stage in front of the Justice Building, and it was on this stage that four chairs stood. Next to the chairs on either side were the huge glass balls containing every child's name a number of times. Mine was somewhere in there the minimum of 5 times. If I'm chosen, good. If not, even better. Sitting on the far left chair was Festive, a woman who was rather big. She was one of the winner's back when volunteers were in the extreme and it was a race to volunteer. I remember re-watching the games she won, where she managed to win by gouging out the runner-ups eyes. She would be mentoring the girl who was chosen, or should I say me?

To the far right, opposite Festive, sat the male mentor, Jaden, a thin, young man who won two years ago at the age of sixteen. He was a surprise as no one volunteered for him and he never actually killed anyone personally during his time. At the end of the Games, he tricked the runner-up into a pit of spikes and kept to his interview, where he vowed he would win without placing a hand on the other Tributes.

Next to Jaden sat the escort for our district, a fat man with short, yet vibrantly pink, hair, with studs in his ears. This man was to draw our names soon.

However, at this moment, the mayor was taking to the stage, a man with grey hair who would look old if it weren't for his youthful smile. In front of the mayor was the podium that was supporting a cardboard box.

"Good afternoon citizens of District 1. Before we start, allow me to talk about the Capitol, and how each district rose from the ashes…"

Cue the time to zone out. Twenty minutes is as long as it takes for the mayor to recite the yearly story of how the districts came to be, and praised the Capitol for giving everyone a chance, that we won't disappoint.

Finally, the mayor coughs and leans closer to the microphone. "As you'll know, I have special news."

I straighten my back, now listening intently. This should be good.

"This year's Hunger Games is the fourth Quarter Quell, and as is customary, a rule shall be added or changed. Usually the president of the esteemed Capitol would have this great honour, however, due to unforeseen circumstances, he has given the task to me as the mayor of District 1. For this, I am forever grateful." With that, the mayor coughed again. "Inside this box lie a number of cards, each with one of the aforementioned rules. I will now pick out a card for the special rule of the one-hundredth Hunger Games!"

A brief applause breaks out as the mayor reaches into the box and pulls out a card. His smile stretched further before he reads the rule out:

"This year, the Hunger Games will not have one Cornucopia, nor two, but three! There will be three Cornucopias around the arena, hidden away. Each Cornucopia holds a certain aspect of survival. There will be food in one, weapons in another and general supplies, including medicine, in the third."

I cross my arms. This will be interesting. Three different Cornucopias and none of them will be at the beginning of the Games. I briefly think of what I would try to find and I immediately answer that thought with food. Food is most important for me; I don't prefer all that natural foraging stuff that the other districts do. I'll need food to stay energized. If push comes to shove I don't need weapons and I shouldn't need medicine as long as I'm careful.

"Welcome, one and all!"

It takes a moment to register the high-pitched squeaky voice to realise that it belongs to the fat escort. Wow.

"That is certainly marvellous!" The escort trills, his jowls wobbling. "For those who do not know, my name is Opal, and I am proud to be here in the most wonderful District 1. But enough of that, let us choose the honoured contestants from District 1! I believe it is ladies first?" Opal walks over to the glass bowl filled with slips and puts his hand in, wriggling it around dramatically. Finally, he pulls out a name and peers at it. "Ang-"

I shoot my hand up, called out before he can even speak. "I volunteer!" I say the words without a single doubt in my mind.

This is for Jake.

**Jasper Waverly**

**District 1**

"I volunteer!"

I wish I could be surprised. I really wish I could. But I can't be. I knew it all this time. My sister would volunteer and strive to find her revenge for Jake. Nobody could stop her and now she will be in the Games, no doubt about it. My sister steps out from the crowd and her face is oozing confidence. Just for the cameras, I assume. She doesn't show her confidence usually. I sigh, and I know that my choice is coming soon.

"Well, well, that is certainly a surprise! Couldn't even wait for me to finish!" Opal calls out, winking at the cameras in yet again an overly-dramatic fashion. "Tell me, what is your name?" Opal sticks out his pudgy little hand which Amber shakes.

"My name is Amber Waverly. I am here for revenge."

I can just tell the cameras are zooming eagerly on her face. Everyone loves a good revenge story.

"Oooooh…" Opal whispers in yet again another stupid dramatic fashion. "Well, let's wait for the interviews to get all the little juicy details, shall we? Let us hear it for Amber Waverly!"

Another brief little applause although Opal is literally wobbling as he is clapping so enthusiastically. "Well then, let us go over to the boy's, hmm?" Opal waddles over to the bowl and this time quickly pulls out a slip. "Meppo Glee!"

A small boy from the twelve year-old section slowly walks over, fear etched on his face. But no-one volunteers as quick as Amber did.

Now is the time. I need to make a decision. What Amber said before shook me. That she would kill me. But… but is she really prepared for the Games? I wouldn't be abandoning anyone as it is just me and her. I see Amber's eyes staring holes into me, willing me to be quiet, to shut the hell up, to just stay silent. Then I catch a hand moving to my left. That makes up my mind before I can think further. I slyly step to the side and knock the hand into the boy's side and throw my own hand up in a flash.

"I volunteer!"

Amber closes her eyes and slumps in her chair with the look of someone who had just received news of cancer. I stare at her. I will protect Amber at all costs, no matter the obstacle. Amber will win the Hunger Games and will find her revenge for Jake's murder. I guarantee it.

_**A/N:- Something important to note is that I've changed the universe slightly in that Peeta succumbed to his wounds before Katniss got back, thus dying. She still got to the cornucopia, Cato still got attacked by the Muttations, but Katniss won herself. She never used the berries, thus the rebellion never got started and never happened. The Games are still going strong with Katniss as a mentor now.**_

_**Also, there will be two mentors - one for each gender. It is first person and will be from NINE perspectives - District 1,2,5,7 and 12.**_

_**Finally, I only own my own characters and the plot (and some creations of the districts and whatnot), and Angie2282, AlexTheMortal, Yajuu Kikuishi, Zac's Username Sucks, and Mulligatawny own their respective characters. (Their usernames are what they were at time of submission).**_


	2. District 2 Reaping

**Aron Nethers**

**District 2**

I shiver in the biting air, adjusting my earmuffs so the tips of my ears wouldn't freeze off. You would have thought that with all the factories we have in District 2 that it would be warm here. Nope. The factories were in their own separate area from the villages, creating an odd juxtapose where the snow melted in a rim around the hot air. The main bulk of the District - a number of separate villages - would best be described as empty. The roads were wide and silent, the buildings small and homely, made from Granite. A good two inches of snow covered it all; the dark clouds sometimes making it look like ash, as if the mountain overlooking the whole of the district was a volcano that had erupted in the past.

The reason why the district was so abandoned at this time was because the people were at the quarries south of the District square, mining for granite, marble or sandstone. As such there were three separate quarries for each stone, and if they found one of the other stone they would deliver it to that quarry. Each one would be filled with miners with frosty breath and dressed in that thick, rubber like clothing they had to wear, which would always protect them - so the Capitol claimed - from rock-falls.

I continue walking, my boots pushing through the snow leaving behind a trail that looked like some animal had dragged its injured form down the street. It wasn't long until I arrived at the door of my house, smaller than most and positioned right at the edge of the main square of the District. I ignored the bustling of figures as they set up for the annual reaping and opened my grey door into a semi-warm house.

Before stepping further into the house from the doorway I listened carefully, noting the sound of the wind whistling and the house itself creaking. But I could not hear my father. Thank you for that, I'm not sure I could handle him ton-

"Kid!" A deep voice growled. Years of this growl caused me to instinctively duck, a great hand flying over where my head just was and slamming against a small cabinet, smashing the glass fitted on the front. One small door buckled and fell inwards, hitting the small vases I keep there. I peered upwards to see my father, Brock. His large nose was red and his cheeks blushed and I knew it wasn't from the cold. I resist the urge to curse.

"What're you standing around for, kid!?" Brock demanded, not drunk enough to slur his words but… well, drunk enough. I hated that word. 'Kid'. As if I wasn't his son just some random child who was squatting in the house. It always sent a jolt into my heart hearing my father say that.

"Sorry…" I mumble, despising everything about him. The way he threw his weight around, his despicable personality… I knelt down and started to push the pieces of glass from the cabinet into my hands, ready to deposit them later. Halfway through this, my mother entered the front door, a shopping bag in one hand and a bottle of liquor in the other. Noticing me picking up the glass, her mouth twisted.

"Foolish boy!" My mother, Clere, scolded me, pointedly looking at the broken cabinet. "Why did you smash that?"

"I didn't." I say, not looking up. "That was Brock." Much like he calls me Kid, I get a small measure of revenge in not calling him dad, or father, at least not to his face.

"Are you blaming me?!" My father asked with false hurt. "How dare you… I am your father! You do not lie to your mother, especially if you are going to blame me!"

"I think the one lying here is you!" I shoot back quickly, getting to my feet and throwing the shards of glass into the rubbish bin. I turn around and find him standing closer to me. He plants his hand on my shoulder and squeezes painfully.

"Don't you talk to me like that, boy." He said menacingly. I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Brock." My mother said, slowly pulling his arm away. "Be careful, not where it can show." She turns back towards me. "Get out. I do not want to see you until tonight."

"Maybe you won't see me ever again!" I snap back, crossing my arms. "Or have you forgotten? It's the reaping tonight, and if I get chosen, well then, I won't BE coming back, will I? You know I can't win them, so just actually do or say something good for once, will you?"

My father opens his mouth but I don't want to hear it.

"In fact, just shut it. I just cannot be bothered to deal with this bull anymore." I turn in anger and stalk past my somewhat shocked parents and back out into the snowy street. Pushing my way through the snow again, heading towards the quarries, I sigh, my breath coming out and disappearing into the air. I usually don't blow up like that, but those two… I find it hard to make a good case for them as parents. Not only that, but it made me think about the Hunger Games. I didn't really want to think about them today, not unless I was with my friends.

I shrug it off with hunched shoulders and let the thought of talking to Sina cheer me up. Sina Terra, the love of my life. I know that sounds cheesy but it's true. We met almost a year ago, and we were nervous as could be when we first had our proper talk. We'd seen each other around school and had both asked our friends to ask the other to talk. It was complicated but we talked and well, we hit it off well. A few dates and that was that. Five weeks after we started dating we had the best night in what I expect will be our lives; short of getting married or having kids though that's a while off.

I find myself walking on the trail down through a valley, fences lining it with occasional flags in case of the occasional snow storm. It doesn't take long until I reach the quarries. I walk along the edge of the quarry until I find what I'm looking for. I take a moment just to look as Sina works hard, sweat peppering her brow. Even covered in all sorts of dust she looks wonderful, her hair tied tightly behind her head and her lips pursed in concentration. I move from where I'm spying on her and come up right behind her.

"What're you thinking about?" I whisper into her ear, latching my hands around her stomach. She doesn't even flinch I've done this enough times. She used to jump out of her skin every time I did it.

She doesn't answer and glances at me, leaning on the pick-axe that seems slightly too big for her. "What are you doing here, Aron?" She grins and leans forward, kissing me on the cheek. No doubt to avoid getting any of that dust in my mouth.

I shrug. "I got into a bit of an argument with my parents." I smile warmly as she adjusts my earmuffs. I love the feeling of her light fingers over my ears.

"Oh?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah. My dad blamed me for something I didn't do and my mother didn't even question it. As if I'm some kind of trouble-maker that doesn't deserve their trust." I shake my head as Sina stiffens slightly.

"You're gonna have to go." Sina says apologetically. "There's a peacekeeper glaring at me. We'll talk later. Why don't you go and find Gary? I'll meet you two up in the Den."

"Sure thing." I grasp her hand for a moment before leaving, hands in my pocket to ward off the cold.

I know it was brief, but I feel much better after that exchange with Sina. Nothing makes me feel better but her, that much is certain. A smile is on my face I head all the way back to my initial village and then at to back of the village. I stop at a large house made of granite with actual glass windows, peering over the smaller houses. These houses are typically reserved for the richer workers who've been working for over ten years. I knock on the door and wait a moment before Maria Hemlock opens the door. She's a large, jolly woman who wouldn't hesitate to give free food to any who truly need it. If you try to swindle her for food, take it from me, that ladle hurts!

"Hi." I greet as she smiles warmly down at me. I would love a woman like her as a mother, not the stiff witch I have. "Is Gary home?"

"Oh yes, dear, he is. Will you be going out or do you want to stay?"

"We'll be going out, thank you."

"Okay, I'll get him for you, dear." She disappears for about a minute until my best friend appears in the doorway, Gary Hemlock.

"'Sup?" He questions, shutting the door behind him knowing exactly where we're going.

"Nothing much. I was annoyed but I'm okay now."

"How so?"

"Just an argument with my parents." I explain away quickly to my friend. "Sina says we should meet her at the Den." I inform him.

"Cool." Gary just nods without question. He's eighteen but one of the coolest guys I know. Tall and handsome with a head of golden hair, he's been the talk of school more than once. If it wasn't for his occasional delinquent attitude, he'd have girls swarming all over him. "Right then, shall we head out, mm? And try to wipe that god-awful smile off your face. You look like a dolt."

**Sina Terra**

**District 2**

I strike hard at the stone, trying to ignore the glare from the peacekeeper. That visit from Aron certainly helped my thoughts as much as I knew it helped his. I share his feelings about parents - although in my case it's only my mother, Angela. At the thought of her my anger threatens to rise up again. I bottle it down. She didn't always strike anger in my heart, but ever since part of the quarry collapsed, killing twelve and injuring twenty others - one of whom being her - she just sits at home, watching TV and drinking liquor with a lame leg.

The only money that comes in is from me and my father, Jem. It's all we can do to get the money to keep the TV which my mother claims is helping her rehabilitate; the rest of the money is rationed for food, medicine and anything else we may need. It's tough but it works. If only my mother actually made an attempt to heal we'd be much better off.

I try to throw away these thoughts again and let myself drift into the repetitive pattern of my pick hitting the rock until twenty minutes pass. It's what I've been waiting for. I make my way to the small building at the entrance of the quarry, throwing my hard-hat into a basket and receiving my payment from the very same peacekeeper who was glaring at me from before.

I take the trail over to where Aron lives, by the main village of the District. Working my way to the back of the village I open up a fence gate into a small open area. This is one of the only open areas we as a district are actually allowed to go. The mountains are too steep and dangerous to try and climb, and a lot of 'flat' areas are actually pockmarked with holes covered by snow. I've known a number of unwary people to fall through these holes.

Heading straight to the corner, I find a familiar shack, simply made of metal sheets with holes cut out to act as windows and doors. The Den. The image of this place made me forget all about my problems for a moment and I head inside where Gary and Aron are already chatting.

The Den was made by kids ever since we were born and was a place that we could talk about our views on everything under the sun without fear of being heard: The Hunger Games, the Capitol itself, things that if heard under a microphone would probably get us executed - or worse. There was one rule - when you reach 18, you forget all about it. The place held many memories for me. This was the place me and Aron went to on the night of our fifth week after we started to date. Fond memories; memories that neither of us will ever forget.

I sat down beside Aron, kissing him on the cheek. Gary raised a hand. "Hey there."

"How're you doing?" I answer, leaning back on the comfy sofa some kid once managed to get in here. There were some rumors that the sofa was here before the Den itself. Then again, there were some rumors that the large mountain was some kind of hidden military base, so you can't trust everything you hear.

"I'm good. To tell you the truth, I'm a little bit excited."

"How can you be excited? Today of all days?" Aron looks at Gary with a confused expression.

"Well, I'm 18, aren't I? Therefore this is my last year of having to chance to be in the Hunger Games."

"Yeah, but you still could be chosen." I put in.

"True…" For a second, Gary looked thoughtful, before shrugging and grinning. "If it happens, it happens, right? And if I do get chosen, god forbid, I will go into the Games all guns a blazing and win the damn thing."

"I'm sure you would." Aron dryly says.

"Well, what about you two?" Gary leans back on his chair. "What would your reactions be if you were chosen?" Gary looks to me first.

"Well, I'm not sure if I'm honest." I scratch my chin, thinking about it. "I would hope that I'd go up there, looking like it's no big deal."

"Good." Gary nods approvingly. "Get the people on your side before you even start. Aron?"

Aron looks to Gary and just shakes his head. "I don't really want to talk about it. I just think we should hope we don't get chosen and leave it at that."

"Fair enough." Gary sighs but I know he understands how Aron's feelings work. "So… what do you think about this situation for the Games, y'know, the three cornucopia's?"

We know about this since the reaping process takes twelve days, one district a day. Yesterday was District 1, where a brother and sister both volunteered. The mayor announced that the three cornucopias were to be placed in the arena, separate from the starting point.

"To be honest, I think it's a bad idea." Aron says. "The people love a blood bath at the beginning - at least the Capitol citizens do. Without a cornucopia at the start there isn't anything to fight over."

"Not necessarily." Gary argues. "I'm sure that there will be some volunteers wanting to take out the weaker competition first? Remember last year? That twelve year old kid went completely mental and kills 15 people around the Cornucopia, before running to the mountains? That shows that he didn't do it for the Cornucopia, otherwise he would have just stayed there."

"But what if there isn't someone like that this year?" I question. "Aron's right. The Capitol loves a good blood bath and having nothing there is only going to result in people running different directions. There has to be some other twist, possibly an object people need."

"Maybe the arena will be a labyrinth and they'll be a map." Gary suggests.

"But still. Certain people would risk it without maps." Aron says.

"The President sure has to live up the hype this year." I say, snuggling closer to Aron, savouring his warmth. "But hey, they never fail to make fireworks at the quells, do they?"

We talk for almost two hours, about our families, things to do in the future, those sorts of things before Gary decides to head home. Aron then walks me back home, kisses me goodbye, and walks away. I watch him pad through the snow before turning into my house. I close the door softly since I know my mother will be asleep at this time and head up to my room to change for the reaping. A few minutes I've dressed myself up and I'm sitting on my bed, waiting until I have to head out.

"Sina…"

At the sound of my name I turn to see my father standing in the doorway. Just by looking at his face I can tell he has been crying. I don't comment on it. Every year since I was twelve he cries, letting himself be drawn into the possibility that I could get chosen. He's a strong man, but losing his daughter atop of everything else in his life… I know it'd break him.

"Hey dad." I stand up and brush off my skirt.

Jem doesn't reply. He just looks down at me with his soft smile. "Good luck today, kiddo."

"Don't worry. I'll be back. Why don't you prepare a nice meal for today?" I suggest lightly, pulling on a coat to ward off the chill.

"Okay." My dad places a scarred hand on my cheek. "I'll see you later?"

"Definitely." I slowly move his hand off my cheek. "I need to be going now so… bye then." I leave my father in my room, staring after me.

**Aron Nethers**

**District 2**

It's time for the reaping.

I stand in the area designated for seventeen year old males on the right side of the square, funnily enough right near my house. I look over to the seventeen year old females and I can see Sina standing near the front, biting her bottom lip. She always tries to look strong but… well, it's easy to say but much harder to do.

I hate being this far from her. I want to be next to her, to comfort her, but I can't. I have to stay here, listening to the young mayor recite the usual nonsense. The history of District 2, blah, blah, blah.

Finally, after everything was said and done, the escort, a tall woman with lime green hair with pink highlights walks over to the microphone, grinning like a fool.

"Well, hello there!" She says in this pseudo-mysterious voice. "How are you all feeling? My name is Entivia, and I am to be the escort of the future winner of the Hunger Games… well, hopefully, mm?" She winks down at us. "But let's not diddle-daddle! Let us announce the female who shall be chosen for the prestige of participating in the Hunger Games and the honor of perhaps winning them!"

She walks on high heels to the glass sphere, plunging her hand deep into the paper slips. I draw my breath in along with everyone else. She stirs the pot around before pulling out the slip. She licks her lips and lifts the slip high into the air. Then she calls out the name.

"Sina Terra!"

I feel like someone has stabbed me with a dagger. It can't be… not her. Not her, out of all the possible names, it can't be… it can't be Sina. Anyone but Sina, it can't be her!

Standing numb I can only look at Sina standing in a similar state of shock. Murmurs fill the crowd. Sina is known as the girl who works the hardest in the quarries for her age group, always bringing in the money to help her friends and family, just like her father. Many predicted that she would join the factories soon but now… she…

Sina steps forward past her age group and turns, looking pointedly at me. The camera follows her gaze, trying to find who she is looking her. She smiles sadly and lifts a hand. 'Good-bye'. She mouths it and turns around again. Seeing her back, I feel shivers running up my spine that has nothing to do with the cold. This can't be it… this can't be the last time I'll see her. I can't watch her on the screen to die.

I do something extremely reckless and stupid.

I knock over the few teenagers in front of me, running flat out onto the square. Two peacekeepers step forward but I dart between them, grabbing Sina in my arms. I'm not going to let her go. I will not let her become a victim.

"A-Aron…" Sina mutters, surprised. She couldn't just expect me to stay quiet, could she?

"I will not let you go, Sina." I say into her ear, feeling tears sliding down my cheeks. "I cannot let you go!"

"You have to, Aron. That's the way it's got to be."

"No, it doesn't have to be that way!" I growl. Two hands wrap around my arms, dragging me backwards and off of her. "Get off!" I yell at the peacekeepers. I manage to elbow one of them in the stomach and reach for Sina again, but I feel a sharp pain in the side of my head as a peacekeeper hits me with his truncheon. I drop to my knees, the world spinning around me. A small sliver of blood seeps into my eye, dying half of the world red. "I can't let you go, Sina… I can't…"

"What can you do!?" Sina steps forward and grabs my face in her hands. "Are you going to oppose the Capitol? Aron, just leave, alright? I'll be fine. I'll be back. Don't injure yourself anymore."

"No… that's not…" I grit my teeth, my head pulsing. I do the second stupid thing that day. "I volunteer! I-I volunteer for the Games! I don't care who is chosen, I volunteer in their place! I don't care! I volunteer!" Sina's eyes widen but all I can think about is that I have to be with her. We'll figure it out, maybe we can somehow win together. I can't let her go.

Entivia glances to the mayor, who simply shrugs.

"Well…" Entivia steps back up to the microphone. "There we have it, then. Um…" She looks blank as she doesn't know my name.

"He's called Aron Nethers, and you better remember that!" Someone yells. I look to find Gary yelling as loud as he could. He grins with a sparkle in his eye. Looking at me and Sina, he gives a salute. "These guys'll be the Star-Crossed Lovers, Part Two! Go get 'em you lovable idiots!"

Typical Gary. He'll make the best out of any situation.

"Aron…" Sina mutters. I look down at her. "You are the stupidest idiot I've ever known…" She leans forward and kisses me on the lips, staring straight into my eyes. "But I love every single part of you. We'll make this work. We have to."

_**A/N:- This one was hard to re-write. Not only did I have the District weather wrong last time, but their pov's were too short. Well, no matter. This turned out well. **_

_**Thanks to Yajuu Kikuishi for the review, and 'till next time! **_


	3. District 5 Reaping

**Ryder**

**District 5**

I brace myself, pushing my feet against the floor, my trainers trying but failing to grip the smooth metal. I should've worn boots. Sliding back slightly, I press hard on the metal ground to avoid slipping over. My hands push upwards on the ceiling and I bend my arms so my elbows are in line with my jaw. Sufficiently positioned, I nod through the window in front of me. Gritting my teeth, I close my eyes and wait until the first sound.

_Beep._

"Fifty Pounds." A voice echoes through the intercom in the bottom corner of the room.

The ceiling starts to lower but I can keep it up easily without any effort. I just nod back towards the window for more weight.

_Beep._

"One hundred pounds."

Still no effort. I just look through the window again. We've gone through this weight before.

"It's just protocol, Ryder." The man on the intercom says in answer to my look.

_Beep._

"Two hundred pounds."

I can notice the weight increase but I still don't have to strain to keep the ceiling from dropping. The ceiling can go up to one thousand pounds - although obviously I can't hold that much up. That's for when they want to test the strength of materials. 'They' being the men in white coats sitting on the other side of the window, clipboards in hands, pens scribbling. They are like clones; balding, wire-rimmed glasses, blue eyes and short.

_Beep._

"Three hundred pounds."

I drop my shoulders slightly to adjust to the weight but I can tell I can hang in much longer than the last time I tried this test.

"Okay, Ryder, this is the amount you could hold last week."

_Beep._

"Three hundred and thirty-five pounds."

I smile. I can still hold it up with ease. I could probably stay like this for half a day with this weight. I mouth to the man at the microphone standing behind the men on the chairs, Jerry, someone I work with often. '_Four-hundred.'_

"You sure?"

'_I can handle it.'_

_ Beep._

"Four hundred pounds."

The ceiling comes down and now I'm forced to push upwards rather than just carrying the weight. I adjust my fingers and stare at my arms. I can handle more. I know I can.

_'Give it another hundred.'_

Jerry is obviously surprised. "Really?"

I nod.

"Remember to fall on your back if it is too much. But you're doing great."

_ Beep._

"Five hundred pounds."

The weight increases and I can feel my leg and arm muscles tense. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to hold the ceiling up. Five seconds. I feel the blood pulse in my head but I ignore it. Ten seconds. Then I feel that familiar feeling which I've had before. If I hold on any longer, I'm gonna tear my muscles from the bone. It's happened before. Accepting my limit, I drop to my back. The ceiling plummets towards me but stops just short of my nose. With a whirring sound it slowly ascends back to its normal slot. I stand up and stretch, cracking my knuckles. A door to my left lights up green, allowing me access into the room with the men in white. Jerry approaches me and shakes my hand.

"Good job. That's a new record."

"Mmm-hmm." I just nod and lean on the wall as Jerry heads to the front of the room.

"So, as you just saw, using the formulae you see on that form, this steroid -" Jerry lifts a syringe, "can increase the strength of a seventeen-year-old male almost twice the amount of his original power. The only side-effect currently known is a lack of sweating, but there is no addiction involved in this steroid, nor massive muscle increase. I truly believe this is perfect for a number of things; military can use it for their soldiers, or perhaps workers to help them lift more loads. There can be any number of applications using this product."

"What do you call it?"

"Hm?" Jerry looks to the man who asked the question.

"What is the steroids name?"

"Well… For now we're dubbing it 'Dynami', named after the Greek word for Strength. This is subject for change, of course."

"Hmm… Well, we'll be in touch." Just like that, each of them filter out of the room. Jerry sighs and smiles wearily at me.

"I wish they'd send people with just a little bit of personality."

"It's either bland like them or far too over the top. Trust me, those guys are better to deal with, unless you want high-pitched voices in your ears." I say, crossing my arms. "So, what's next?"

"Next?" Jerry shakes his head. "Ryder, that's it for today. We can't risk anything combining with the Dynami."

"Well, is there anything else that doesn't involve drugs?" I ask.

Jerry sees that I actually want to do something else. He taps his chin in thought before nodding. "Alright, well, we'll try and see if we can make you sweat. I'll make you run some laps, hit a punching bag, lift some weights. Is that okay?"

"Anything's fine." I just say. "I don't care as long as I get paid."

Jerry looks at me with a look which says 'you probably should care'.

"Look, my mind can handle anything you throw at me." I tap my chest. "My body can last pretty much the same. Without me, how many subjects would just die of exhaustion, hm?"

"That's only because people with your body-type don't usually volunteer to be experimented on. Usually the only people who need money are weak kids who are desperate."

"Not every desperate child is weak." I simply say and walk out of the room into a pristine white corridor. Jerry walks at my side.

"I guess." Jerry bites his bottom lip. "How's Kyle doing?"

"No change. It's not good news, but it's not bad news either."

"Can I… can I ask something?"

"Sure. Whether I'll answer is another thing." I smile down at Jerry. "What is it?"

"Your father… how did… why is he in a coma?"

I stop walking and stare ahead of me. I hear an echo of a conversation long past.

_"Don't worry about me, deal with him, he's going to die!"_

_ "He's not even from this District, dad, you-"_

_ "He is the patient, I am the doctor. He needs to be dealt with first!"_

I narrow my eyes and breathe deeply. "He was trying to save a life." I didn't say anymore. I walk towards the gym, leaving Jerry behind to watch my back.

**Tilly**

**District 5**

One leading the flock. Three more in line. Two rows of seven with an eighth trailing behind. The birds fly overhead, two feathers falling from the one at the back which seems to have some kind of lame wing. As the birds pass, I hear the sound of a door opening. Looking at the source of the noise I notice that once again, the odd loner boy Ryder comes out first. He doesn't even glance at me as he passes by with those dark, brooding eyes of his. No one talks to him and I actually think he prefers it that way. He is always the first one out so it comes as no surprise. It is common knowledge that for seemingly no reason he has volunteered at the testing division that dominates half of the school. I've seen the type of people that go in there - thin, frail, injured. But Ryder is none of those things. He's sturdily built with that short cropped hair of his and those fine, toned muscles. He has a number of needle marks on his neck - where they inject him with god knows what. Some say that's he only a loner because all humanity has been sucked out of him. I know that's not true. Those eyes are filled with more than the majority of the school combined. He disappears into the distance and I turn back to the school doors.

Exactly one hundred and thirty seven people exit the school before my sister arrives. I like to count crowds… well, I like to count anything really. I find it helps my perception and intelligence. I'll be honest, it doesn't _really _need to be boosted, but it's something I do every day. My sister always arrives before the crowd reaches 200.

Her name is Lily and she is five years younger than me at thirteen. She admires me to the point that she dresses in the same type of dress - albeit a different colour - than me, as well as ties her hair in pigtails just like mine. Her hair is much darker than my blonde, however. As she approaches, her green eyes beam at me. "Heya Tila." She says, hugging me around the waist. She had not gotten the family growth spurt yet and only came up to my chest.

The name Tila comes from Lily being unable to say my name when she first started to talk. The name stuck and now that is all she calls me. I smile down at her. "Hey Lily. How was school?"

"It was brilliant! Arthur accidently burnt himself with acid and his skin was bubbling and everything! It was so cool!" She gestured widely with her arms with that ever present exuberant smile of hers.

"Is it serious?" I ask without concern. I know that the chemical they would have used will only burn through skin, nothing else on the human body short of clothes.

"Oh, he's fine. Mr. Fisk merely sprayed him with something and it made this blob of white stuff appear. What is it?"

"It's a type of gel which stops any chemical reaction. It's useful for chemical accidents in laboratories."

"Oh." She nodded with that smile and we started to walk back home.

With her as young as she is, it might seem peculiar to others why our mother doesn't pick her up. No, she isn't dead or injured or even horrible. Cherie works hard - not only cleaning and making our own house pristine - but working without pay at other houses. She doesn't mind as cleaning is sort of a hobby for her. My dad, Roome, brings in all the money.

"Remember, Lily, dad wants us to meet him, remember?"

"Oh yeah… where is he?" Lily's face fell. This was only because she despised long walks which is why she often steals piggy back rides off of me or my mother.

"Don't worry, he's only at his lab a few blocks away.

Lily looks up at me with what could only be called puppy dog eyes and I know what that means. I don't bother to deny her request and hoist her up to my shoulders, where she giggles with glee. Thank god she hasn't grown in size yet. Hopefully she'll grow out of the piggyback stage soon.

"Right, hang on. This time preferably with something other than my hair."

My dad brought us straight into his office. Just from that I can tell something is wrong. His office walls were covered in achievements that his lab had made in the name of science, with a trophy cabinet of his school days. However he didn't even glance at them as he sat at his desk and looked at us with his quiet eyes.

"Dad…" I say, pulling Lily in close.

"Sit." Dad says, motioning towards two chairs. We both sit, wondering what is wrong. Dad is usually happy. It's where Lily gets her energy from. When he doesn't say anything, I lean forward.

"You wanted to speak with us?"

"Yes." For a moment he shut his eyes before opening them again. I could see the corner of his eyes glistening slightly. "I won't beat around the bush. Your mother has cancer. It's terminal. She has two months at best to live. We… we just found out about it recently. I've been too busy to… we've both been too busy to notice."

I blink. It takes a few seconds to register what he says. When I do, I feel weight crushing down on my shoulders. Cherie? _Cancer?_ "Wh-what? What are you…" I choke out, finding my throat constricting. Lily shakes beside me, her bottom lip quivering, all that happiness stricken away with that simple phrase.

Dad stands up and sighs, shaking his head. "There's nothing we can do here. We deal in science, not medicine. And even if we did… only the Capitol has the resources we would need. Cancer can be cured now but it's expensive… to get that much money in one go… you'd need to win the damn games at best…" He shakes his head and doesn't seem to realise what he said.

The Hunger Games…

"We have to… to deal with this somehow. That is why she hasn't been home too often, because she didn't want you guys to see how worn out she was getting."

Reward for the Games… Enough to last you and your family a lifetime...

"Tilly?" I look up at my dad's voice.

"What if I volunteer for the Hunger Games?" I say quietly. I barely realise what I said, my thoughts coming out of my mouth. Dad's eyes widen in a mix of surprise and horror. Lily squeaks and clasps my arm tightly.

"You can't!" She cries out, tears glistening down her cheeks. It must be too much for her to take in. I'm just numb. I'll probably get the full brunt of emotions later. "Tila, you can't volunteer! You…"

"Shh…" I place a finger on Lily's mouth and look to my father. He stares down at me.

"Don't be stupid…" He says quietly. "It requires more than intelligence to win the Games."

"But you know it can be done. I know you know that I could do it." I stand up and look at my father who can't help but nod. "I have the highest IQ in school. I don't need strength. I could make traps. I could trick them to make stupid mistakes. I know the body off by heart, where to stab them. I can do it, dad."

Roome doesn't speak but I can see that brain of his moving rapidly.

"Think of it." I pace back and forth, planning how it could go in my brain, growing on the idea. I know I can do it. "I'll volunteer. I can squeeze some tears out, I can say how I'm doing this for my mother to cure her cancer. I'll get the sympathy of the world. That means that I'll be given items to help me to survive. In the interviews I'll play it up more. That I have a sister who just wants to see her mother healthy again. They'll be eating out of my palms."

"But the bloodbath…" my father mutters.

"I'll get the hell out of there. I'm not going to learn how to fight in the three training days. I will find water and then I fill find one of those cornucopias. My intelligence can lead me to survive father. I'm small as well. If needs be, I can climb anything that happens to be there."

"I… I can't possibly suggest that you… do this…"

"You don't need to suggest it." I cross my arms. "I need to do this, for Cherie. She raised me and Lily. This is the least I can do."

"But… but if you don't come back… then we will lose you and Cherie."

"Yes." I say simply. "You will. But that is a risk we'll have to take. What's better, dad? No chance of curing Cherie? Or a one in twenty-four chance of healing her?" I look down at Lily who is pale and shaking. I lean down and look into her eyes. "I'll be fine, Lily. You know me." She just looks at me with large watery eyes. I sigh and place my hands over her ears so she won't hear what I'm going to say next. I look at dad. "I may die, dad. I know that. If I do… god forbid, if I do… make sure that your job doesn't come before Lily."

"I-"

"Make sure of it." I say firmly. "Lily needs to keep that happiness of hers, no matter what. It's a valuable trait."

"How can she be happy without you or your mother?"

"Because she'll have a father who'll go to the ends of the earth to make her happy. Doesn't she?"

**Ryder**

**District 5**

I walk slowly. I'm not in any kind of rush, so why should I go any faster than natural? Soon enough I arrive at my house, one of numerous white squares dominating the District. I press a button, allowing the door to slide up. I walk in and place my coat on the coat rack to the side. My dad once had a thing for antiques, so instead of smooth, plastic furniture it is all wood and fabric. However, beneath the antiques the house is like any other. The front branches off to the kitchen or the living room, before joining back together to form the stairs that head up to the bedrooms and the bathroom. I stop at the television for a moment and switch it on, still standing.

I want to see the reapings for the four districts so far. The official channel of the Hunger Games repeats the reapings on a loop. From District One are siblings. Amber and Jasper Waverly. Amber doesn't seem too happy with Jasper volunteering. They'll either go far - or not far at all. I wouldn't be at all surprised if Amber just killed Jasper in the bloodbath just to get it over with. That's what I'd do. Emotions just get in the way in the Games.

District 2 has another interesting pair - this time boyfriend and girlfriend. Sina Terra and Aron Nethers. Just from one phrase from a kid in the crowd, they are already playing up the Star-Crossed Lovers Part Two. I can't imagine Aron likes that all much, with what happened to Peeta twenty-five years ago.

Next up is District 3. The girl, Poppy Yussa, is thirteen years old with an innocent face speckled with tears that wet the front of her dress. The boy is called Tobias Joker. He is tall, gangly, and freckly. Broken glasses rest on his nose and both of his front teeth are missing. I can tell that they'll be killed straight away. Easy targets.

Finally for District 4, we have a raven-haired girl called Lacy Neem and a boy about my size who looks unwilling to kill anything called Jacob Dareet. Nothing special. Chances are they will join the careers like District 4 tends to do.

With the current reapings over and done with, I head upstairs and into my father's room. It has been converted into a sort of hospital room and he lies on the bed, thin, frail, and in his coma. I look at him and let out a breath.

"So… dad. I've been thinking about volunteering for the Games. I certainly could go far with this body of mine." I smile sadly. "I know… I know, you don't want me to. You don't have to worry, I won't. It's just a thought, is all. If I volunteer, who'll take care of you? Not the hospital, that's for sure. They would have pulled the plug if I wasn't here. I'm earning enough money with the testing. I was injected with this new steroid which has doubled my strength. I can't sweat anything out, but that's only a small side effect. That's really all that happened today." Staring at his motionless form, I shake my head and stand up. Soon, it'll be the reaping. Once that's over with, I can focus more on trying to find something that will make my father wake up.

I feel the brisk air brush over me and it is all I can do to blink. I don't move. I simply stare ahead at the stage in the middle of the square, where the bright escort stands. He turns his head left and right before leaning into the microphone again.

"Ryder… Is there a Ryder here?"

So I didn't hear wrong. It really was my name announced. I don't feel scared. I'm not sad or worried. The only feeling I have at this moment is anger. Anger that my father will be alone. I find myself squeezing my hands into fists and push through the crowd, striding up to the stage and standing beside the female Tribute.

Her name was Tilly, the same girl who seems to always stand outside the school every time I exit the testing facilities. She doesn't seem like the type to volunteer, although I'm sure she has some reason or other. I tower over her and I can see from the monitors that my face is dark and grim. I look dangerous - perhaps even downright murderous. As the escort talks into the microphone again, I start formulating a plan in my head. At no point do I consider that I will be killed. I cannot afford to be killed. My father needs me.

After the escort finishes talking, Tilly and I are bustled off into separate rooms of the Justice Building, to say goodbye to those we love. I don't expect anyone to arrive… after all, the only person that I care for is lying comatose in a bed in my house. I just sit on the chair, unmoving, figuring out the steps I need to take. I don't hear the door open.

"Ryder?"

I look up to see Jerry standing there with a sad look on his face. Honestly, I'm surprised he's even here. We just work together a lot, I wouldn't consider us friends. I don't have friends. I don't need them nor want them. "Jerry."

I can already tell he's holding something nervously in his pocket. Thankfully there are no peacekeepers in the room or cameras so that we can have a modicum of privacy with our families.

"What is it?" I ask, glancing at his pocket. "You may as well just hold whatever you are hiding in plain sight you're acting so strange."

"Well… yeah… I guess… it's just… this sort of thing'll get me killed, you know?" He scratches his chin before pulling a syringe out of his pocket filled with dark blue liquid. Dynami.

"You're going to risk your life for a drug that'll run out before the Games even start?" I ask, knowing what he was thinking. "I can't smuggle that in, either."

"No this is… an advanced version, so to speak. Well, all it does is increase the duration it stays in your body." Jerry looks at the liquid inside. "This will last for three weeks. Unless the Games last longer than usual, it should last you through them."

"Not that I care but isn't that technically cheating?" I stand up though and pull my collar down.

"Technically. But… you're a hell of a good kid, Ryder." Jerry says, looking into my eyes. "Your father is one of the brightest and best of our District. You're just like him y'know? You've got grit, Ryder. You got strength even without the Dynami. Consider this a little present is all."

I nod. The Dynami would be a great help, doubling my strength. I could snap bones with ease or catch a blunt weapon swinging at me. This certainly changes my plans. Crouching down , I allow Jerry to prepare the needle. He injects it straight into my neck and I feel that familiar trickling feeling as the drug goes into my body. After a few moments all of the Dynami is gone and Jerry pulls the syringe out. "Is it okay?"

I straighten up and crack my knuckles. "Perfect. I take it this won't interfere with the Dynami I've already got in my system from today?"

"Not at all."

"Great." I see the doors open and the peacekeepers come to take me to the train. "Well then, Jerry. Thank you. I'll see you in a few weeks, hmm?" I follow the peacekeepers out. The Hunger Games are no threat to me. I've had god knows how many chemicals enter my body - dull poisons, boosters, steroids, whatever they needed testing. I've taken a paralyzing drug which gave me all sorts of nightmares that I couldn't wake up from. I once took a drug which stopped my heart for ten seconds before starting it again. The Games are nothing compared to the chemical warfare my body has taken.

_**A/N: - Well, the original chapter was half-assed and I didn't like it at all. So I've up and improved Ryder and Tilly's storylines more so than the usual rewrites. Thanks to Yajuu Kikuishi and Ashbrie13 for the reviews! **_


	4. District 7 Reaping

**Sabrina Brooks**

**District 7**

"Get back here!" I shout, irritated. I push my way through the bushes at the base of one of thousands of trees that are part of the forest that surrounds District 7. The forest would usually be bustling with the teams that cut down trees, however we have an hour off before the reaping. Well, I would have an hour free if my idiotic sister didn't go and steal my jacket.

Bridgette is my twin sister, but apart from our looks (which include our long black hair, green eyes, and being taller than usual) we are nothing alike. I like to be alone with my thoughts and I consider myself smart. My sister is ditzy and giggles uncontrollably. Did I mention she's an idiot?

"Nuh-uh!" My sister called back, passing between the trees at a run, ducking under branches, jumping over bushes, and weaving through clumped together trees. I suppose that is another thing we have in common: we're both flexible and fast; both us drawing as the fastest in school. That's why I couldn't catch her seeing as we run at exactly the same speed.

"That is MY jacket, Bridgette!" I shout at her, trying not to grind my teeth in anger. I don't really worry about my looks or clothes, but that jacket was an exception. It wasn't made out of anything special, but it was given to me by my father on our 16th birthday. Me, not her.

"But I want it for the reaping!" She whines, looking back at me. I see what she's about to run into but I can't get the words out before she runs smack bang into a branch, almost flipping over completely. She lands on her rear, blinking, blood running scarlet down her nose.

I reach her with panic in my chest but that quickly disappears as she chuckles, holding her nose with her hand. "Ow." I just shake my head and grab the jacket from the floor, pulling it on so she can't steal it again. I pull her up by the arm and look at her nose. It doesn't look broken but the blood isn't stopping. "Keep your head high. Mum'll clean you up."

Bridgette and I head back through the woods, walking for a good ten minutes before we come up on the first of the wooden houses that make up the housing section of District 7. A number of people look concerned as we pass. It must look a sight - one of us covered in blood. We make our way to our house. The front door swings open before we even make it on the porch, our mother Rita standing there with a concerned look on her face. "Bridgette? What happened to you?"

"Branch." Bridgette says nasally.

"How?" Rita asks, using a handkerchief from her pocket to clean up the excess blood while pinching the top of Bridgette's nose, stemming the blood flow.

"Running from Sabrina."

My sister and her big mouth… my mother looks at me and not in a good way. That was the problem with Rita - she only pays attention to Bridgette. It's like we had to be the same because we were twins. Twins SHOULD be different, how else are we meant to be unique? I start to talk before she can open her mouth. "She took my jacket! My birthday jacket. She says she wants it for the reaping, but she knows it mine!"

Rita purses her lips and shakes her head. "That won't do Sabrina. Why can't you let your sister wear your jacket, hm?"

"Oh, I wonder…" I roll my eyes. "It couldn't be because it's _mine_."

"Don't be lippy with me."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to lend my jacket to my perfectly spoiled, idiotic sister!"

"That's it." Rita glares at me. "Stay in your room and do not come down until the bell for the reaping rings."

"Fine!" I exclaim. "But this is dad's jacket! If he were here he'd understand! I wish he were here instead of you!" I push past her, knowing that was a low blow. I slam the door to my room behind me and try to resist the urge to cry. I hated this part of me - being so emotional. Even little things get me. Unable to hold it in I collapse to my bed with my head in my arms, sobbing.

**Daniel Miller**

**District 7**

I wait with anticipation, watching through the ragged hole in the wooden wall. It doesn't take long before old lady Griss with her pale hair and wrinkled face appears with her walking stick clicking against the floor. I stare at her hand as it reaches for the handle of the door. She turns the handle. Griss takes one step forward. I breathe deeply just as a water balloon drops down and bursts over her head, drenching her. She sputters and looks around wildly. "W-who…?!"

Thomas behind me guffawed with laughter as Zeke and Owen slapped hands, laughing along with him. I puff my chest proudly standing before them. "The silly fool didn't expect that one!" I say, high-fiving Thomas.

"Yeah! She probably thought nothing was gonna happen… but then… but then it did!" Zeke says, clutching his side since he was laughing so much.

"Come on, let's get outta here." Owen smirks. "Before Griss gets a peacekeeper on us."

At that, all four of us took off towards the forest, through one of the many well-trod paths.

My friends were good friends; cool friends with a brilliant sense of humor. Owen was thin and gangly, but was the most intelligent and claimed to know 150 ways to kill a man. Thomas was the biggest, standing around 6 foot five inches tall with big broad shoulders perfect for wielding an axe to cut wood. Finally, Zeke was slightly smaller at 6 foot and was one of the most feared people at school, which, of course, was great!

Zeke and I had been best friends since we started school four-so years ago. The only difference between me and him was that if someone messed with me, I'd ignore them. They ain't worth my time. But if someone messed with Zeke, he would go completely crazy and beat them to a pulp. When he was ten, he stabbed his mother in the eye with a pencil but somehow managed to talk himself out of getting punished. He's sly like that, Zeke is.

We met Thomas soon after. He was beating this snot-nosed kid up and Zeke offered to help. With that, Zeke and Thomas became friends and by extension with me. Owen was kind of a random encounter. Thomas, Zeke and I were messing around with a 'chipper' where you throw bits of unwanted branches into the machine, shredding them into tiny pieces that were spread about the floor. I was pushed by Zeke and I went headfirst into the machine. Thankfully, Owen caught me, and us four have been friends ever since then.

We finally came to a stop, breathing heavily and panting next to a specific clump of trees that we always hang out around when we need to run away from something.

"Th-that was frickin' great!" Thomas gasped, his huge shoulders moving up and down.

"Now what?" Owen asked, consulting his watch. The watch was a golden thing that was far too expensive for his family. That was because he had stolen it from the mayor's daughter and placed the blame on some random kid at school. Because the kid didn't admit it he was tortured by the peacekeepers. Tough luck. I hear he still finds it hard to pick up a pencil without any fingers. "We've still got half an hour until the reaping."

I shrug and lean against the tree. "We could go throw some stones at Jabb's house?"

"Sounds like fun. Nice one." Zeke nods in agreement and claps me on the back. "Come on, let's go!" He led us off back the way we came, telling a joke about the mayor and a monkey.

Yeah, we four were unpopular, but who the hell cares? We do our own thing. If people get in our way, then we'll deal with it. No-one screwed with us.

**Sabrina Brooks**

**District 7**

For a while I stay in my room, red-eyed and sniffling. I pass time until ten minutes before the bell rings out for the reaping. I get dressed and try to make myself look somewhat like a contender for the games god forbid I'm chosen. Getting support is one of the most important things for a Tribute when going into the games. Whatever the act, it needs to be effective: tragic, funny, sad, confident, whatever you need to get the crowd on your side.

I pull my hair back into an untidy ponytail and pull on a blue t-shirt, black jeans, and some sneakers that look the least scuffed. Finally, I pull on the jacket despite the fact it has a few drops of Bridgette's blood on it. Dad would be happy that I'm wearing his jacket, I know. I make my bed all neat and tidy just before the bell rings out over District 7 - a heavy, solemn sound not unlike that you'd hear at a funeral.

It's time.

Bridgette accompanies me to the square, dressed in a wonderful dress that was green with brown tendrils snaking their way around it, all the way up to her neck. I have to wonder, why did she want my jacket? She looks positively beautiful.

We make our way quietly to the already crowded square and put ourselves together in the female group for seventeen year olds. It takes another ten minutes before a hush falls over the crowd as the mayor stands up. If my sister is beautiful, the mayor is a goddess. Her raven hair is tied into braids down her back, landing slightly over her ebony dress which flows down to the floor like a river. The mayor's face is perfect, with red lipstick as the only make-up on her unflawed face.

Unlike most of the speeches, our mayor's is actually interesting, her voice emblazoned with grandeur. She makes jokes and is actually light-hearted. If she wasn't such a great leader and a beautiful woman, I'm sure the president would kill her. After the speech, most people are smiling at a joke the mayor said about horses, donkeys, and District 1.

"Well, that's that then. I'm not too keen on that speech, are you?" The mayor earns a round of applause for that comment. "Let me introduce to you all to the escort for our District… Lita Sherbet!"

Lita turns out to be a robust woman who looked like she could cut down a tree with a slice of her hand. She was tall, even taller than the mayor, and had what could be considered a huge jaw. Lita's hair was, true to her name, sherbet yellow, but despite this odd look she still looked threatening.

"Hello," she boomed with a deep, firm voice. "As you hear, my name is Lita Sherbet. I shall be the escort for the two tributes chosen, along with your mentors." Lita motioned behind her to the two previous winners of District 7.

The female was called Woodpecker. No-one remembers what her original name was, and she doesn't know because she got extreme amnesia after coming in contact with a hammer to the skull wielded by a maniac. She only survived because she fell down a ditch. The attacker followed, tripped, and impaled himself on sharp needle-like plants. The arena was full of them that year.

The male was old, around 56. His name was Hatchet, and he was a mastermind. He used tricks and traps involving nothing but ropes to kill 12 of the Tributes. He won after sneak attacking and strangling the female Tribute from District 4.

"Well, let's hope I have someone worthy to mentor, just like these two here. But enough chatter, I am sure you are all wondering who is first. Let us start with the females." Lita walked over to the glass bowl on the left and reached in with a ham-like hand. She managed to pinch one and brought it up, peering at it.

"Bridgette Brooks?"

Bridgette? Did she just say Bridgette? I glance to my sister and see her staring in shock. Tears form in the corner of her eyes and slip down her cheeks, wetting her elegant dress. Sniffing and sobbing, she steps forward to the stage.

As I watch her walk I cross my arms and bite my lip. Bridgette… I loved her as a sister, sure, but I didn't _like _her. She was a spoiled brat with no sense of the world. Hell, isn't this what I want? With her gone then my parents would have to focus on me, right? So many siblings don't volunteer for each other so no-one will think I'm a coward. I'm not, it's just… why should I go to the Games when I can let Bridgette go? I'll be safe… I'll be alive. I ignore the heavy weight in my gut and squeeze my eyes shut. I can't volunteer for her. It's just the luck of the draw. I won't volunteer. I won't volunteer.

In the darkness of my closed eyes an image pops up from out of nowhere. Bridgette, bloody and beaten, broken bones and bruises covering her body. She is still alive and I can tell she is suffering, her eyes looking straight at me, filled with pain and hurt and betrayal. I can see the question in her eyes. _Why me? I'm not made for the games, Sabrina, but you are… you're strong and you can make the most of our athletic ability. You can kill, Sabrina, I can't._ _Why make me suffer when you have a real chance?_

No… No, I don't have to. I ignore the image in my head, looking to the floor. She has always dominated my family while I stood in the background. She took the attention, the money, the presents, the love. My dad was the only person who ever loved me.

The image comes back. Now my father is standing over Bridgette, looking at me also. _She's weak, Sabrina. She'll die in the bloodbath. She'll die painful and lonely. But you… you have a chance. A real chance. Let her have the love and the attention, Sabrina. What you have is much more valuable. You have will. And if you truly want attention and love, what better way to get it than to win the Hunger Games?_

Damn it… Damn it all the hell.

"I volunteer!" I call out, thrusting my arm into the air. Bridgette turns and looks to me, slack-jawed. There you go, Dad. I'll do it… because honest to god, I'd be much less missed.

**Daniel Miller**

**District 7**

The well-known loner Sabrina volunteers for her sister and she walks past her without saying a word, stepping up to the stage with the ugly escort. I only recognise Sabrina because me and the guys have knocked her books out of her hands a number of times. It's funny as she simply ignores us, picking the books up only for them to get knocked out of her hands again.

"Hah! What a stupid idiot, volunteering." Zeke whispers behind me.

"I know, right? Why would someone volunteer? It's a quick journey to die. I mean, I wouldn't die if I was in the games but I'm not gonna go and volunteer and push fate, y'know? It's stupid." Thomas says, grinning.

"I predict…" Owen puts a finger to his chin. "…she has a one percent chance of winning. She'll be killed in the bloodbath."

"Definitely." I nod. I agree with Thomas one hundred percent. I'm not volunteering for anyone - not even Zeke. He'd be able to handle himself much better than me anyway. Heck, I'm only in there for three slips of paper, the minimum for my age. The chance I'm chosen is less than Sabrina winning!

Lita puts her thick hand in the bowl delicately and pulls at a piece of paper. Thomas rubs his hands together with a small grin on his face, looking like he wanted to be chosen. Owen rubs the back of his head nervously. Zeke seems to vibrate with expectation and energy. I could see him in the games, ripping people apart. A small part of me almost wanted to see that. I just stand there with a loose smile on my face. I'm not gonna get chosen, the chances for that are far too slim. It'll probably be one of the kids who take a bunch of tesserae - the poor ones that stink like an outhouse. I wonder for a moment what I should do tonight. Probably taunt the family of whoever gets chosen. I love it when people cry over their kids.

I have absolutely, one hundred percent, no chance of getting chosen.

"Daniel Miller!"

...crap.

_**A/N:- Slight delay, sorry. Well, next chapter is the final reaping so 'till then. **_


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